


It's a Hug, Morgana, Tongues Aren't Typically Involved

by uisceB



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uisceB/pseuds/uisceB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen and Morgana in a dark tower. The Dark Tower, in fact. Madness ensues, some due to Mandrake roots, others due to the fact that Morgana may be a few cards shy of a full deck...smutty goodness at the end, also some angst, but mostly awkward sexy humor as can only be expected from these two</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Hug, Morgana, Tongues Aren't Typically Involved

I

Morgana's hair could really do with a good brushing. 

That was Gwen's first thought on seeing the High-Priestess-One-Time-Queen-of-Camelot for the first time in three years. The last time she'd seen her, Morgana had been about to run her through with a very large broadsword. And she'd really only looked sorry about it for a small second or two. After that, she'd actually looked like she wanted Gwen dead.

So it was just ridiculous to Gwen that now, after having not seen her in three years, and having not been her maid in almost six years, her immediate reaction was to want to sit Morgana down and get a comb through those tangles.

From Queen to Maid in under 60 seconds. Well done, Gwen, well done.

Well, it didn't matter now, it's not like Gwen really had the means to return her old mistress's hair to its former glory anyway. Reason being, her hands were bound tight with a thick and slightly splintery rope, and she was being dragged unceremoniously behind Morgana's horse through a very orange, very barren desert.

Not completely barren, actually. There was a tall and twisted tower growing out of the sand a few leagues ahead of them, black and bony like a sickly tree. If this was where Morgana had been spending her days lately, Gwen certainly couldn't blame her for being a bit more maniacal than usual.

Gwen tripped a little over what she hoped was not actually a human bone, but was saved from landing flat on her face as Morgana pulled up reflexively on the rope, yanking Gwen back onto her feet. 

The dangerous green-eyed woman threw an unreadable glance back at her, then continued on, leaving Gwen to wonder if the jerking of the rope had been intended to hurt her, or help her.

Either way, there was still the condition of the High Priestess's hair.

Gwen remembered fondly a time when Morgana had been the Lady Morgana, nearly as sweet as she was well-coiffed. Well, maybe sweet wasn't quite the word. She'd always been firey-tempered, tempestuously moody, and the most impossible person to convince to just bloody go to sleep already. But she had been kind. And whether she liked to admit it or not, she'd had a good heart.

Those had been the days of Morgana of the shiny, flowing, well-groomed locks.

Now Morgana was insane and hell-bent on ruthlessly murdering everyone Gwen held dear, and her hair was…well, it would always be great because it was Morgana, but it also looked like it had possibly stood a bit too close to a lightning bolt at one point. 

The thought occurred to Gwen that possibly, all the evil in Morgana's nature stemmed from her hair.

Then Morgana stopped at what looked like the entrance to the dark tower and slid gracefully off her horse, tugging Gwen harshly toward her with a brutal flick of the rope, and Gwen reasoned she should probably start thinking less about her former mistress's hair, and more about how best to avoid being killed.

II

Morgana was having a kind of…well, something akin to a sort of problem.

She had kidnapped Gwen, that was good. She'd used her magic to yank the Queen right off her horse as she tried to get away, that was also good, that had been fun. Then she'd pretended to offer Gwen some water, only to pour it on the ground so she couldn't drink it. That had been funny and mean, a combination Morgana found quite becoming on herself.

And now, she had locked Gwen in a room positively dripping with Mandrake root, which, should everything go according to plan, would drive the woman completely mad and deliver her a slow and painful death whilst also luring Arthur to come rescue her, only to wander helplessly into Morgana's out-stretched claws.

It would be killing two birds with one stone. And if Arthur brought the knights and that idiot Merlin with him, it would be killing many birds with one stone.

Here was the problem. Not problem, Morgana didn't have problems, she was Morgana, but the thing that could easily be mistaken for a problem by an imbecile: It had taken them three days to travel from where Morgana had abducted Gwen to where they were now at the Dark Tower, and in that time, Morgana had grown a little bit sort of…accustomed to having her old handmaiden around again.

Not handmaiden. Queen. 

Bitch.

Anyway.

Because really, the thing was, Morgana loved Aithusa, she really did. Who in their right mind could honestly not love the sweetest of sweet baby dragons that had come to her rescue when she'd thought all hope was lost.

But…Aithusa was a dragon. Not a person. Not someone capable of speech, or a smile, or even just a confused or angry expression. Gwen was capable of all these.

Gwen was also apparently and quite unexpectedly capable of showing a phenomenal amount of cleavage in these new royal gowns of hers. It was almost enough to make Morgana feel inadequate. Or…something else.

Morgana considered this…"something else" for a moment. Truth be told, many years ago, Morgana may have had a very small, hardly noticeable crush on Gwen. She may have sometimes woke screaming from her nightmares a little more desperately than was actually necessary, simply to summon Gwen to her so she could snuggle tightly into her embrace and inhale the very faintly flowery scent that seemed to follow her handmaiden everywhere.

There may also have been that time that she convinced Gwen to stay up all night with her and drink till they both could hardly get a word out without falling into fits of hysterical laughter. And then in a brief moment of calm amongst the giggling, Morgana may have leant forward and kissed her a little bit, feeling her skin hot and flushed beneath her touch. 

Gwen may have made a surprised little "oh" and Morgana may have slipped her tongue past her lips to take the smallest taste, before they both collapsed in a heap of giggles again.

In the morning they had felt dreadful, Morgana less so because she remembered everything, but also more so because she didn't know whether Gwen did.

Morgana had rather hoped these memories were a thing of the past. But sitting here, alone in the Dark Tower, listening through the wall to Gwen scream as the poison of the Mandrake root began to seep slowly into her mind, Morgana couldn't help but feel a little…what was that word…sad.

Or lonely.

She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, sort of out of boredom, sort of to try to drown out the sounds of Gwen's screams. Then she stood with a frustrated huff and strode up the stairs to the Mandrake room and opened the door.

She was just going to ask Gwen to have dinner with her. Then she'd lock her back up, and the plan would continue as before. This was nothing to worry about it. Just company for dinner, that was normal, that was bloody polite was what that was. She still clearly had what it took to be a gracious hostess.

Morgana was in no way in danger of getting in the way of her own evil plots and schemes.

III

The dining room could really do with a good dusting.

Oh for heaven's sake, Gwen, you're a Queen now, stop thinking like Morgana's bloody handmaiden again…

But really though, would it have killed Morgana to wipe some of the cobwebs off the candles before seating them both down at the table for dinner?

Well, maybe it would have. Morgana had certainly never had to clean anything in her life while she lived at Camelot, and possibly now that she was roaming the world like a wild thing, she just let things continue to get dirty because she actually still had no idea how to use a broom. Gwen doubted Morgause would have spent much time schooling her on the ways of good housekeeping during their time away.

Wouldn't it be funny if she had though?

But to return her thoughts to the matter at hand, Gwen was finding this entire set-up undeniably creepy. Morgana was serving her a plate full of food…not prison food, either. Decadent, lovely-smelling food. And she was asking Gwen if she would prefer chicken. Chicken instead of cow.

Did Morgana just have all these animals on hand somewhere, ready to be slaughtered and cooked and served up at her command? Or was this a magic thing? There didn't seem to be anyone else in this tower, not that Gwen would know, having been locked up in that terrifying room.

She'd kept hearing voices up there. At first she thought Elyan had come to her rescue. Then his face had twisted and he'd laughed cruelly at her, before disappearing before her eyes, leaving her to wonder if he'd been there at all. There was something truly evil in that room, something that was strangely absent here at the table with Morgana.

She refused the food. In all likelihood it was poison anyway, although Morgana had had the chance to kill her for days now, it seemed a little elaborate to keep her alive this long just to poison her with delicious-smelling meat.

"I don't know what kind of cruel trick you're playing," Gwen said fiercely, "but I will not be broken by you."

To her greatest surprise, Morgana didn't respond with a smirk or a jab or a fireball to the face. The High Priestess's expression actually sort of fell a little bit into a disappointed scowl.

It was a scowl Gwen knew very well. She'd seen it all the time when Morgana had been back at Camelot with them. In those times, it was mostly directed toward Uther when Uther decided it was fitting to kill yet another one of Morgana's friends. It was a very childish little scowl, but it had some real anger, some real sadness to it.

"I thought this would be nice," Morgana snapped defensively and Gwen couldn't help but feel like she was back to dealing with the same very spoiled, but very passionate princess she'd once known.

Poor Morgana. Wasn't getting her way again, and Gwen actually had to restrain herself from reaching forward to soothingly tame that wild hair of hers.

This was all starting to get a little too strange for her.

IV

Morgana felt like an idiot. She wasn't one, obviously, but she bloody felt like one. It was Gwen's eyes that did it. Those big dark doe eyes.

Maybe Morgana should cut those eyes out. Feed them to Aithusa. Or maybe to the crow. Crows enjoyed eyeballs, didn't they? Probably they enjoyed most things that were dead, they were crows.

Morgana had a weakness for eyes like that. Morgause…her beautiful Morgause had had eyes like that. Intensely dark, and frighteningly still. Morgana felt like her own eyes were never still, always moving, always snapping this way and that, on the lookout for danger.

But she could always be soothed just by looking at Morgause.

Just by looking at Gwen.

It must really be something to have eyes like that, eyes that could just be open and waiting, instead of darting and cruel.

She never should have asked Gwen to dine with her. Because Gwen had sat there, all self-righteous and brave in that quiet way of hers, and fixed those pretty eyes on Morgana, and Morgana had fallen into them just a little bit so that she told Gwen, she told her about how she'd been locked at the bottom of a black pit for two years.

Secrets had always been Morgana's strength. If it's one thing she learned from Morgause, it was that you must never reveal what you were really up to until the last possible moment. Truth was weakness, it allowed people to know you, and if they knew you, they could hurt you.

Now Gwen could hurt her.

So Gwen was locked back up in the Mandrake room where she belonged.

Morgana hoped the Mandrake poison finished her off quickly. Nothing good could come of this whole "let's tell each other secrets and bond" thing.

V

The poison was not finishing Gwen off quickly, it was making her very dizzy.

Twice now, she had been totally convinced that Merlin was behind her, chasing her around a column, roaring like a demented lion. She had run around and around and around that column, and was now sitting with her back against it, out of breath and head spinning. There were people lurking in every shadow, she knew it, and she was beginning to seriously regret having refused Morgana's food offer as her stomach growled loudly, causing her to leap to her feet, afraid it was Merlin again.

She closed her eyes.

Mistake. Now it was a sickly-looking Arthur standing above her, cackling in a way that was best left to old crones and demonic children.

She slid back down to the floor lifting her hands shakily to her face. Not her Arthur. Not her Arthur when what she needed most was a familiar face…

The door opened and Gwen squinted upwards. Morgana. Not exactly the familiar face she'd had in mind but…

But.

Uhm.

Morgana had slid down to her knees so she was level with Gwen and now threw her arms around Gwen's neck, holding tight.

So this was it. This was how she died, Morgana strangling her with her arms. Not even with her hands like a normal person, with her arms. Looks like poor Morgana really had lost her mind if she'd forgotten how to properly strangle a person.

Except…no, nope. Morgana was not strangling her, or else she was a lot weaker than Gwen would have ever guessed. Morgana was…was Morgana hugging her?

"Are you drunk?" Gwen asked, or tried to, but her mouth was sort of engulfed by Morgana's wild hair.

"My darling, it was wrong of me to make you suffer," the High Priestess was saying, and squeezed her tighter.

My darling? 

This was a lot to handle right now. Arthur, Merlin and Elyan were hovering around the fuzzy outskirts of her mind, grinning sadistically, laughing in her face and Morgana…Morgana was here, in front of her, clutching onto her the way she'd used to when she woke up from a bad dream.

Shocked and very confused, Gwen allowed herself to melt just ever so slightly into the hug. Morgana had opened up to her the night before…could it be that maybe she…you know, aside from the killing and all that…maybe she wasn't so evil after all?

And really, in this horrible place where nightmares came to life before her eyes, is this how Morgana lived every day? Every night? And on top of all that, alone?

Gwen actually found herself hugging Morgana back, even getting a hand over Morgana's hair, finding it surprisingly soft, despite its ability to frighten away brushes and combs by its mere appearance.

Hoping Morgana might not notice, Gwen sort ran her fingers through a section of the High Priestess's hair, aiming to get rid of a particularly nasty tangle. (She really couldn't help herself, alright, it was right there). Then of course her fingers caught in the tangle and Gwen found herself more or less stuck to Morgana's head.

Gwen froze. No good could come of this. One should never pet a Morgana. That was like petting an angry wolf. And now Gwen was sort of a bit attached to the angry wolf. Which meant she was likely to get her head bitten off.

Morgana moved against her and Gwen braced herself for the killing blow, screwing her eyes shut and going rigid.

The blow never came.

Morgana was nuzzling against her neck.

Read: Morgana was nuzzling.

Gwen pulled back like a shot, yanking her entangled hand from Morgana's hair which caused Morgana's head to be yanked painfully to the side.

"Ow!"

"I'm-- sorry, Morgana…"

"What on Earth did you do that for?"

"Well what on Earth were you doing?"

Morgana straightened back a bit, her face taking on that childish scowl again which, for whatever reason, was becoming almost endearing to Gwen.

"I was…" Morgana looked lost. "You know, comforting you…I heard you…you sound...you seemed…upset or…something…"

"Upset?" Gwen almost laughed, except that it looked like she could possibly see Elyan shuffling dangerously in the shadows and that sort of made her eye twitch a little bit. "Upset?" she repeated. "You kidnapped me!"

"Yes, well…"

"Yes well what?"

"Yes well I'm sorry!" Morgana shouted.

Gwen gaped. "You're sorry?"

Morgana set her jaw, not making eye contact with Gwen. "I never said that."

"You just said that."

"You're obviously going completely mad, I will no longer continue this conversation with you."

The High Priestess struggled to find her feet and Gwen, far much more to her own surprise than even Morgana's, reached her hand out to stop her, closing it over Morgana's wrist.

This was bad. This was very bad. But Morgana -- aside from the messy hair, the black dress, and the near-skeletal appearance of her cheekbones -- looked frighteningly like the Morgana Gwen had once served under. Those wide, frightened eyes…it was funny and a little sad, no matter how powerful Morgana got, her eyes would always be full of that same fear.

Gwen pulled Morgana against her, hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around her and held her close.

Morgana stayed stubbornly rigid against for her the tiniest of seconds before drawing herself in even closer, seeming like she was trying to burrow herself into Gwen's arms.

Yes, Gwen remembered now. Morgana had never really known how to just lay still in someone's arms and allow herself to be held, she always needed to find a way to get closer, even if this was actually an impossible task. She would squirm and cling, clutching at whoever it was with a fierce sort of desperation. That had been Morgana in the old days.

Morgana now was even worse. The years of loss and solitude had obviously only left her feeling emptier than ever and at the moment, she seemed to be holding onto Gwen for dear life.

And her hands were wandering Gwen's body.

And…

Gwen gasped a little. Morgana slid her hand up so that it cupped Gwen's jaw, and then pulled Gwen's mouth to hers, pressing into her lips in a way that Gwen could only think to describe as questioning.

The kiss was surprisingly soft, and that's why Gwen found herself unable to pull away at first. No one who had done the things Morgana had done should be allowed to kiss that softly. Certainly not that innocently. Although, Gwen realized with a jolt, not that innocently, as Morgana slipped her tongue delicately against Gwen's lips, working them open so sweetly, Gwen almost didn't notice. 

And then of course, she did notice and pulled back, hand flying up to Morgana's shoulder to hold her back.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"You…you were hugging me!" Morgana accused.

"Yes, Morgana, hugging you. Tongues aren't typically involved in that sort of thing," Gwen informed her.

"I think you should leave," Morgana said huffily, standing to her feet.

"I…really?"

Morgana seemed to realize her mistake. "No, nevermind, you can't leave, I still need to kill you. And Arthur hasn't even showed up yet. Where the hell is your husband?"

"I don't know, I saw him lurking in the shadows earlier and he and Merlin and Elyan were trying to kill me, and I've got a headache…"

Morgana jumped, wheeling around. "Arthur's here?" she cried. She looked around wildly for a moment, then seemed to realize something and turned back to Gwen, more in control. "Tell me, when you saw Arthur, did he come in through the door, or did he just sort of appear before your eyes unexpectedly and then vanish?"

"The second one," Gwen told her.

"Ah. I see. Well then, I'll see you in the morning."

"Morgana, you're not going to just leave me here!" Gwen cried, grabbing the other woman's arm.

Morgana halted, her gaze dipping down to where Gwen's hand gripped her elbow. "Well that would depend," she said, taking a step into Gwen who stiffened uncertainly. "How are you feeling about your beloved Arthur right now?"

VI

If it's one thing Morgana was getting good at, it was using the Mandrake root. Just two days locked in the room, and Gwen had mentally shifted Arthur from love of her life, to bloodthirsty killer bent on her destruction.

Also this new thing where Morgana's tongue was between her legs, that may or may not have swayed the Queen of Camelot's opinion to some extent.

Morgana lay on her back on top of the covers of her bed, Gwen sleeping soundly beside her. Gwen always slept soundly, Morgana thought, a little jealous. Back when Morgana had been too afraid to face her dreams by herself, she'd made Gwen stay the night in her chambers with her, hoping her presence might scare away the shadows. Mostly it didn't work, but Morgana always liked being able to look over across the room to see her maid curled up securely by the fire, blissful and serene. It allowed her to believe things might someday be okay.

Now, Morgana rolled over on her side, putting her back to Gwen. Things had not gone according to plan. Gwen was supposed to be dead now, and so was Arthur -- Gwen from the draining weight of the Mandrake root, Arthur from the traps Morgana had set for him when he entered the Dark Tower to rescue the Queen.

Instead, Morgana had been an idiot. She'd listened to Gwen screaming in fear, and she'd heard herself in those screams, and she'd gone to comfort Gwen, and then, of all things, she'd kissed her. That horrible fatal kiss like when they were teenagers, and Morgana just really couldn't kill her.

So she'd allowed her to be rescued. Sort of. The Mandrake root had been successful in a way Morgana had not foreseen: rather than simply driving Gwen mad, it had turned her against Arthur, which made her a powerful ally in Camelot, a possible assassin for Morgana to use at a moment's notice.

And on nights like these, when Gwen could slip away into the forest to alert Morgana to the King of Camelot's actions…well, they usually ended up like this, naked and tangled in the sheets of Morgana's bed.

It wasn't like how it had been with Morgause, Morgana thought. Morgause was her always, her everything -- never once had she woken up tangled in sheets, in those times, she'd always woken up tangled in Morgause. There was no magic, no brain-washing, no deceit. There was harshness, there was possessiveness, there was constant craving, but for all its darkness, it was the safest Morgana had ever felt. With Morgause, she belonged somewhere, she belonged to someone.

Here with Gwen, Morgana didn't want this to be true, but she knew it anyway…there was no way this could last. Gwen was her teenage crush, her sweetest comfort, and now, very much the person standing in her way to her rightful place on Camelot's throne.

As far as Gwen knew, it was all real. That was the Mandrake root for you, made you pliable, gullible. And very sweet, edible, almost…Morgana turned over to look at Gwen.

Very bad. Very very bad decision-making. Should've stuck with the original plan. Should've killed everybody in one fell swoop. Should've…

Gwen stirred in her sleep, letting out a soft sigh, and Morgana absolutely could not stop her arm from winding around the other woman's waist to pull her close and kiss her softly on the neck.

And then not so softly. She nipped at the flesh just below Gwen's ear, dragging her teeth lazily down to her collar bone, digging her fingers into Gwen's thigh as she heard the other woman wake with a startled gasp.

"Morgana?" Gwen murmured, still dazed from sleep.

"Shh, I need this," Morgana said, mouthing over Gwen's breasts and then clamping down to suck hard on her nipple, sliding over to get herself in between her legs.

Gwen moaned, tangling her fingers in Morgana's hair.

Morgana glided her fingers, feather-light between Gwen's legs, then harder as Gwen urged her on, wrapping her legs around her waist and pulling her face against her breasts.

Morgana smiled a little in spite of herself -- Gwen's breasts were…well, they were…there they were. They were a very nice couple of things to get lost in for a little while as she worked her fingers up between Gwen's legs. They were also a nice location to explore with her teeth and tongue as Gwen's moans turned into high-pitched whines and then desperate gasps, making her chest heave fantastically against Morgana.

Finally all of Gwen's movements slowed and she shuddered a last time, rubbing her legs slickly against Morgana's sides.

"Oh my god, Morgana," she said breathlessly, dragging her fingers exhaustedly down Morgana's spine.

Morgana withdrew her hand but stayed snuggled against the other woman, feeling somewhere between very satisfied, and very sad as a strange realization dawned on her that this was the last time she would ever be with Gwen like this.

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" Morgana said against her neck, feeling suddenly drowsy.

"What are you talking about, Morgana, you'll see me tomorrow," Gwen laughed, sweet as always.

"No, you'll be his again by tomorrow," Morgana murmured, allowing sleep to start washing over her. "He'll take you away from me and I won't ever see you again. But I'll fight for you, I promise. Even though I know you won't remember and you won't want me to. I promise I will."

And Gwen stroked her hair, not at all sure what her mistress was talking about, but by the next day it didn't matter anyway because Morgana was right, Arthur broke the spell and Gwen was his again.

It's fine, Morgana thought, burrowing under her covers that night. She was basically done dealing with people and all their crazy complexities anyway. It would have to be just her and Aithusa again for a little while. 

Didn't matter. Morgana would just kill everybody now. No one left in the world, there'd be no one left to make her sad anymore.

Sounded like a plan.


End file.
